


The Great Gay Pornstar Twitter Feud of 2020

by Vixeree



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom!Remus, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Get Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sub!Sirius, Wax Play, gratuitous use of the em dash, the em dash is a major character in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixeree/pseuds/Vixeree
Summary: “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a date with your hot, clever, fellow porn-star twitter nemesis, of whom you once said ‘I’d rather die than let that pretentious knobcloud touch my dick’... is that about right?”“... Yes.”Or; Remus Lupin forgets to turn the fucking camera on.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 585
Collections: Remus Lupin Fest 2020





	The Great Gay Pornstar Twitter Feud of 2020

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following article: https://www.dailydot.com/irl/porn-star-twitter-wars/
> 
> And written for RL Fest Prompt 96: ‘Sirius and Remus are both pornstars who don’t like each other yet their managers book them for the same job. So basically, they hate each other yet have to have sex.’

Remus Lupin has a big dick and three degrees, so naturally he shoots porn for a living. 

He knows where he’s heading, he’s been there — well not exactly there, but places so similar that they well as may be interchangeable — before. He anticipates an aggressively mid-range suite on the seventh floor. No view. 

His shoes don’t click on the shiny polished surface of the foyer, but that’s only because he’s wearing rubber-soled converses. Greeny-brown ones, a colour which his ex-boyfriend Benjy declared nobody would ever willingly pick — except Remus, that is. 

It had been a joke between them at the time, but in hindsight Remus thinks that all of the issues which ended their relationship had been pretty well summed up by that one interaction — Remus was the sort of person who thought greeny-brown was a fine colour for converses, and Benjy was the sort of person who felt compelled to compulsively cheat on the sort of person who thought greeny-brown was a fine colour for converses. 

Well, maybe it wasn’t all about the converses. 

Whatever. He’s over it. 

The elevator arrives with a ding, and Remus gets in. He finds the mirrored walls disorienting; they throw light into his eyes and Remus absently wonders if it’s enough to give him a tension headache. Then he could call his agent and cancel today’s job.

Nothing would make Remus happier. 

Today’s shoot is objectively simple; he and his scene partner have creative license to script whatever they want — even keep it loose if they prefer. It’s a trade shoot, which means that they get to shoot with their own gear and handle their own paperwork. They’d get together, have sex on camera, and then their agents would publish the content on the agreed-upon paid streaming websites — he’d even earn residuals for this gig. 

No director. No studio. Just a bunch of cameras, Remus, and the other guy. 

It would’ve been great; Remus prefers working away from traditional porn sets, it isn’t as daunting psychologically and the timeframes are far more generous. In fact, Remus thinks he would skip the whole way to his suite on the seventh floor — if not for the identity of his scene partner. 

Sirius Black’s Twitter Bio reads as follows; _Social Media Whore_. 

Remus hates him — _hates_ him — but even so, he feels some grudging respect for the way that Black reclaims the word _whore_. 

Black is what Remus would call an ‘instagram-famous’ porn star. He made the jump from cage dancer at a gay bar to internet porn sensation almost overnight — he posts sex toy unboxings, attends conventions and meetups, hosts a hugely popular regular live show, and produces a consistent and high-quality stream of flawless softcore porn photos on all his socials. Photos with captions like _‘tfw your man punishes you long and hard just the way you like #brattysubmissive’_ , _‘I want you to touch me all over, Sir’_ and, perhaps most memorably, an image showing Black wearing a singlet with the writing _‘daddy’s little cockslut’_ on it, and nothing else (Remus hadn’t wanked over that, he _hadn’t_ ). 

Sure, Black shoots conventional scenes — _good_ ones, even, which Remus finds infuriating — and to make matters worse, Black is just so much more _beautiful_ than the average performer. 

He’s the perfect marriage of masc and femme characteristics — glossy raven hair that falls in soft, natural curls, peircing grey eyes rimmed with thick dark lashes, a wicked, filthy mouth, and a body formed by a flawless series of sharp, strong lines, save for the sinful curve of his ass.

He is Remus’ ultimate wet dream, and Remus is being paid to fuck him. 

But he hates him. So none of that matters. It doesn’t. 

Suffice to say, Remus Lupin is not in Black’s league, professionally speaking. Remus is a quiet Dom. He does perfunctorily update his socials (mostly because his agent is always nagging him about it), but his meagre two thousand followers pales in comparison to Black’s two-point-two _million_. 

Remus does alright as a cam boy for people who want to be bossed around a bit, sure, but he finds it hard to be really properly dominant without a real-life subject to focus his energy on. He doesn’t get as much traction online as some — submissive cock whore who needs to be punished, however… That plays well. 

So Remus escorts, and does a lot of scenes in traditional pornography — when the work is available. 

Luckily, work has been fairly steady lately. Which is almost entirely due to his agent Alice — she’s gotten him more bookings in six months than he’s managed to generate for himself in the last two years altogether. And his star is steadily rising, along with his previously meagre dollar-value. 

Last month, Remus had actually felt financially confident enough to buy himself _non-generic_ laundry powder, of all things. Remus had thought that he could feel all twelve kinds of softness advertised, and knew in his heart it had been money well spent. 

_This is how you know you’ve made it._ He had thought, caressing his freshly-laundered twelvefold-soft clothes to his cheek. _You’ve made it when your porn career pays for brand-name laundry detergent._

And he owed it all to Alice. Alice — his brilliant agent. Alice — his good friend. 

Alice — who, in a confusing and cruel twist of fate, had bitterly betrayed him. 

Because she had booked Remus for this job — this _fucking_ job. And surely she had _known_ at the time, about _him_ , and decided not to tell Remus until after the arrangements were already made in case he very rightly freaked out. 

Because Remus would never have agreed to fuck Sirius Black. No matter how pretty the _confirmed sub_ might look panting underneath him. 

To his chagrin, Remus’ cock twitches in anticipation of what’s about to happen. He shouldn’t be surprised — he didn’t get into porn by being indifferent to beautiful men. 

Not that Remus is interested. He _isn’t_. He has — well, _had_ — a boyfriend, and besides, dating within the industry doesn’t appeal to him. He isn’t jealous by nature — not at all — but he already dislikes contending with male performers and their massive egos during his work hours, so he thinks he’d rather not come home to more of the same. 

And then there’s the fact that it’s _Black_. Simply put, Sirius Black is Remus Lupin’s greatest (and only) porn industry nemesis. 

It started with a tweet. 

Remus had been in Dubai over his birthday, escorting for a minor Arabian prince, and he had tweeted a picture of himself — poolside, skin slicked and gleaming with suntan lotion, bedroom eyes — and tagged the location of ludicrous residence he had been engaged to stay at for the week. 

_@RemusL_ — _‘Nothing is quite as extra as Dubai in the summer_ — _this trip might be the best birthday present I’ve ever given myself *sun emoji* *present emoji* *winky emoji*’_

Remus had received a torrent of DMs, all directing him to Sirius Black’s twitter page. He he’d clicked over to it, and his mouth had fallen open, face draining of colour as he read Black’s most recent updates; 

_@SiriuslySexy_ — _‘Hookers tweeting from Dubai like they go there for fun *eye roll emoji*’_

 _@SiriuslySexy_ — ‘ _Like sweetie we know you’re there to suck dick’_

Remus’ heart pounded against his chest; his fingers had a life of their own. Before he could fully register what he was doing he was typing a reply; 

_@RemusL_ — _‘Hey you forgot to @ me, I mightn’t have even noticed your shade if not for the 1000 people DMing me about it - nice job on the cyberbullying’_

Remus had hardly enough time to calm his jagged nerves when a _ping_ dragged his attention back to his laptop. He checked his twitter notifications. 

_@SiriuslySexy_ — _‘People like @RemusL are making the porn industry more dangerous for everyone, putting other performers at risk of STIs by escorting and prostituting on the side, I lowkey don’t know how some bitches sleep at night.’_

And then a second tweet, posted thirty seconds later; 

_@SiriuslySexy_ — _‘@RemusL there u go bb, happy to @ u anytime *kiss emoji*’_

Remus’ blood had boiled. He had never thought of himself as prone to fits of temper, not until that day. He had become a man possessed, violently tapping out a reply. 

_@RemusL_ — _‘@SiriuslySexy Wow slut-shaming from you_ — _that’s a bit rich. Also, I take a recent, clean test result to all my shoots, just like everybody else does. How I choose to support myself on the side is no business of yours.’_

It had pretty much fallen apart from there. 

_@SiriuslySexy_ — _‘@RemusL It’s my business as long as ur in *this* business, sweetie. Ur perpetuating the stereotype that performers can be rented and bought by whomever. I’m proud of what I do and my brand_ — _can u say the same?’_

 _@RemusL_ — _‘@SiriuslySexy Not all of us have 2.2mil followers and brands crawling up our arse to arrange endorsement deals. If you think your experience of the industry is anything like most of ours, you’re even dumber than I thought.’ (1/2)_

 _@RemusL_ — _‘I love my job but escorting is a necessity for me, I would not be able to support myself on shoots alone. And for the record, I’m an escort, not a prostitute or ‘hooker’. I do what I’m comfortable with and nothing more.’ (2/2)_

Black had replied with some choice expletives, but those tweets had been taken down not long after, but not before the Daily Mail published an article containing screenshots of the exchange, the account dramatically titled — _‘GAY PORNSTAR TWITTER FEUD’_. 

Remus shifts the weight of the duffel bag on his shoulder, and walks towards Room 713, where Sirius Black is waiting to fuck him — or more precisely, be fucked _by_ him — on camera.

The hotel-room door is standing solidly in front of him — almost offensive in its willful propensity to continue existing when Remus really wishes it would just fall from the face of the earth so that he doesn’t have to go inside. 

He sighs, and runs a weary hand through his mouse-brown curls. He has to remember _why_ he is doing this. 

_Just close your eyes and think of the brand-name household products, Lupin._

He opens the door. 

* * *

  
Sirius knows he’s fucked — and not just literally — the moment Lupin walks in. 

Lupin isn’t quite burly, but he looks strong. His face is set, jaw sharp, aloof and unreadable; his funny in-between eyes might be hazel but Sirius thinks that they almost look almost yellow — they are guarded, though. Wary of him, which he supposes is understandable in view of their history. 

Unhappily, it transpires that the bad blood between them does not make Lupin even remotely less attractive to Sirius. The other man has these lovely gold-brown curls — good for holding onto while—

 _No_. Sirius shakes himself out of it. _Even though you’re doing this job you are_ **_not_ ** _to enjoy it. This is a favour for Lily, and an admittedly genius publicity stunt. Nothing more._

Given the Daily Mail article, anything he shoots with Lupin is guaranteed to make bucket-loads in residuals. Sirius thinks that’s neat, but not so neat that he isn’t considering throwing himself out a window about now. Because _Lupin._

Lupin has huge, rough hands. Calloused palms and strong, nimble-looking fingers. 

It’s the sort of thing that’s hard to pick up on camera, and it’s only now that the man is standing in front of him that Sirius notices. 

Other things that are hard to pick up on camera — the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of Lupin’s nose. Sirius bets dollars to doughnuts that Lupin has never been shot in 4K before — else Sirius would’ve known about the freckles ahead of time.

Sirius likes freckles. But that’s unimportant. 

Sirius doesn’t say anything to Lupin, and instead busies himself with technical matters. He’s provided the equipment for today — he shudders to think what sub-par tech Lupin would’ve lugged along to do the job otherwise — and he’s spent the better part of the last two hours setting up. 

Studio lights and three separate digital 4K cameras on tripods, all oriented towards the queen bed at different angles and heights. There’s a grey duvet cover and about four unnecessary pillows.

It’s not the nicest place he’s ever been fucked, but it’ll do. 

Sirius tiptoes over the power chords snaking across the floor, and fiddles with some settings on the laptop they all input into. All three feeds are working, the lighting is about right, and the angles should ensure that Lily has a creative array of options when it comes to editing this piece-of-garbage porno later. 

But it’s only going to be _half_ -garbage, because Sirius is the consummate professional, and every one of his performances is exceptional. 

It’s not his fault that Lupin is inevitably going to drag them down with his sullenness and total lack of charisma. 

Sirius thinks that Lupin probably isn’t very creative either; he’d been pretty taciturn, verging on mute, when they’d spoken on the phone about scripting their scene. He’d said he was dominant, he’d listed his hard limits, and then he had cut Sirius off mid-sentence and hung up on him to get his laundry out of the dryer. 

So Sirius had taken it upon himself to loosely script the scene himself, and had texted Lupin simple instructions — and if he had punctuated said message a little aggressively, then who was going to stop him? Certainly not Lily; he’d agreed to this favour, but he hadn’t said anything about doing it graciously. 

Sirius hears a thunk as Lupin dumps his duffel bag by the door, and feels the other man’s presence move to hover behind him. 

Sirius whirls around to say something snappy about personal space, but he’s taken aback when he finds himself nearly chest-to-chest with Lupin. 

Lupin is _tall_. Another thing the cameras didn’t warn him about. 

Sirius isn’t short; he’s a smidge over six feet, which he knows has gone a long way in genetically guaranteeing him a lithe and graceful figure. 

Sirius works out, he’s toned, but in all honesty he’s never felt stressed about how his body looks. He has the height. 

But it doesn’t feel that way when he looks _up_ at Lupin, who must be six-four _at least_. 

“Hi.” Is what comes out instead, his mouth a little dry. He likes tall blokes even more than he likes freckled blokes. 

Lupin looks at him funny. “Hi.” 

Here’s the thing — even though most of the men in gay porn are objectively hot, Sirius can’t recall being attracted to one in an awfully long time. 

He often feels faraway, unreachable in his mind, or otherwise _so_ completely grounded in his body, so absorbed in the physical experience of what the other person was _doing_ to him, that he doesn’t much care what the person doing it even looks like. 

And though Sirius definitely _likes_ when people made him feel like that — the world narrowing to the point of feeling skin, pain… his mind utterly quiet, for once — the fact remains that he is not accustomed to feelings of strong attraction. 

It quickly transpires, as they stand staring at each other in thick silence, that Sirius finds Lupin attractive. 

Sirius isn’t unreachable and faraway now — he’s frazzled, and mad, and fucking _horny_. 

He’s attracted to Lupin. He’s attracted to fucking _Lupin_ , and he’s hardly ever attracted to _anybody_ these days.

And _fuck_ , those clavicles. Sirius wants to lick them. 

Just his luck that the first man to genuinely stir his loins in over two years is also totally insufferable. Not to mention the whole _escorting_ thing. 

It’s Sirius’ pet peeve — performers who muddy the water between distinct professions like that. Sirius already deals with enough pressure when he goes out partying from dickheads who won’t accept that Sirius _isn’t interested in fucking amateurs for money, alright mate?_

He can’t help but feel that if not for people like Lupin, he might not get propositioned _quite_ so often. 

“Let’s talk terms.” Lupin’s low voice pulls Sirius out of his reverie. “I got the list of your hard limits, and the script.”

“Great.” Sirius says. “I’ll need your results before we start, of course.”

Lupin looks at him cooly. “Of course.” 

He produces the requisite paperwork from his duffel bag of mystery. The routine 2257 age-verification form. A model release form. A signed copy of the contract that Lily and Alice negotiated. 

The clean results from an STD test that’s less than two weeks old.

Sirius scans the last document closely, eyes narrowing as if searching out any attempt at forgery. He can sense Lupin’s irritation — it practically radiates off him in waves, Lupin is such a _physical_ being. 

Sirius doesn’t really believe that Lupin would forge a test result, nor that Lily would ever book him a job she thought might endanger his health. He just wants to piss Lupin off. 

It seems as though it’s working, if Lupin’s expression is anything to go by. 

“I’ll need to see yours too.” Lupin says eventually, a hard undercurrent to his deceptively casual tone. “You understand.”

Sirius scoffs — carelessly tossing Lupin’s results over his shoulder — and wanders over to the coffee table where his own paperwork sits. He shoves it at Lupin’s chest — hard — and doesn’t bother to look back as Lupin checks it over. 

Lupin’s eyes trail over the paperwork without interest, he seems to know as well as Sirius that they’re both clean. “If we’re going to do rough play—”

Sirius shoots an incredulous look over his shoulder at Lupin. “ _If?_ ” 

“ _If._ ” Lupin smiles politely, setting Sirius’ paperwork down. “I only do that sort of thing with people who are well-educated on the subject. I only practice safe sex, you see, that means emotionally safe, too.” 

“And what, you think I’m some amateur who needs their hand held through a basic rough scene?” Sirius demands, furious.

“I don’t know anything about you, aside from the fact that you’re nasty to people you don’t know on twitter.” Lupin says calmly. Sirius’s indignant splutter is cut off by Lupin’s next words; “So if you want to do the scene you sent me, we’re going to have to talk it through first.” He smiles brightly. “Or I walk.” 

Sirius eyes Lupin warily. He knows instinctively that Lupin isn’t making idle threats. The bastard would definitely walk on him. Hell, he’d probably _relish_ the opportunity to make Sirius look unprofessional, and Lily will absolutely ream him — and not in a good way — if Sirius messes this job up. 

Sirius shoots Lupin the most contemptuous look he can muster (extremely contemptuous, for the record, a solid nine on the Mean Looks Richter scale) before throwing himself — not undramatically — onto the sofa. 

“Fine,” he says with an imperious wave of the hand that he perfected at age six, “ _talk_.”

Lupin smiles as though they’re having a polite chat over coffee, and not fighting over what sort of porno to shoot, and settles into the armchair opposite. “You want me to dominate you in the scene.”

“You’re a dom. You dominate.” Sirius drawls boredly, not wanting to own his interest in the activities to follow. “Seems stupid not to do that sort of scene. I have it on good authority that people would love to see me get spanked red-raw.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Lupin mutters, before raising his voice and saying; “So spanking is on the table.”

“Firmly on the table.” Sirius says, and, unable to help himself, adds; “As the list I sent you clearly indicated.”

“It’s important to clarify these things.” Lupin says evenly, not rising to the bait. “You might feel differently today to when you made the list. Our limits can change with the seasons, after all.”

“Well, I’m fine with spanking, _still_.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Anything else you wanted to check with me?” 

“Hair pulling?”

“Fine.” Sirius says, and then revises. “Just don’t yank it out or anything. Gorgeous as I am, not even _I_ can pull off a bald patch.”

“You’re a bit conceited, aren’t you?” Lupin asks with a smile in his voice. Sirius doesn’t like how Lupin’s eyes light up in amusement, as though he’s some sort of joke. “May I ask; have you always been a narcissist?” 

“You know, I wasn’t expecting that working with you would entail a mandatory therapy session,” Sirius snaps, “I’m as narcissistic as I need to be in this line of work,” and, eyeing Lupin resentfully, he adds; “perhaps if _you_ took a bit more pride in yourself, you wouldn’t have to fuck strangers for money.” 

“I believe we’ve been over this.” Lupin says, infuriatingly temperate. “I don’t _fuck strangers for money_. I escort.”

“Whatever.” 

Lupin stares at Sirius hard for a moment, and Sirius barely resists the urge to squirm under the intensity of it. 

At length, however, Lupin seems to decide upon carry on as though nothing has happened. “Do you want me to punish you if I deem you’re misbehaving?” 

Sirius licks his lips. “Yes.” 

“Do you want me to ignore you if you say no?” Lupin asks, watching Sirius closely for any sign of trepidation. “Do you want me to take what I want? Make you beg?” 

Sirius swallows, his throat suddenly very dry. “Yes.”

Lupin then immediately asks; “What’s your safeword?”

“Azkaban.” It’s the name of the first gay club he danced in — not a nice place — but Lupin doesn’t need to know about that. 

“And you’ll use it?” Lupin checks. “It’s important that you do.”

Sirius nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Lupin considers this. “Alright, so you’re happy for me to ignore if you tell me to stop, and punish you, and if you _actually_ want out, you’ll safeword.”

“Mhmm.” Sirius continues to play at being bored, but if he’s honest even talking abstractly with Lupin about what they’re going to do is turning him on. 

“I don’t usually do this sort of play in private scenes with new partners.” Lupin admits. “Weirdly, it feels a bit more safe when there’s a whole set of people watching.”

Sirius supposes this makes sense, but he wants the scene he scripted. “I’m comfortable with it. I’ll safeword if I need to.”

Lupin considers him closely for a moment. “Alright,” he concedes, “we’ll do it your way.”

“Great.”

Lupin gestures towards the duffel bag. “I brought the stuff, like you asked.”

Sirius wastes no time in rifling through the bag. Snorting in disbelief, he steps back. 

“These are beeswax candles.” Sirius said flatly, holding the offending objects with evident distaste. 

Remus tilted his head. “Yes?” 

Sirius huffs. 

“You want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.” He mutters, rifling through his bags and pulling out a couple of very plain looking candlesticks. “Beeswax _burns_.”

“I’ve not done wax play before.” Remus says placidly. “I’d be happy to forego it altogether.”

Sirius splutters. “But the wax play is the best part!”

Remus shrugs. “If you say so. Honestly, I think it’s just an awful lot of trouble. Messy.”

“Thought you hadn’t done it before?” Sirius shoots back. 

“I haven’t.” Remus says patiently, with the air of one talking to a preschooler. “But the idea does exactly nothing for me. We can shoot it, though, if you’re really that desperate.”

“I’m not _desp_ _—_ ”

“We should start.” Lupin moves over to the set, and gestures for Sirius to lay himself down on the bed. 

Sirius considers Lupin for a moment before he obliges. In a superior drawl as he says; “Be a lamb and get the cameras rolling, will you? Just click the spacebar.” 

Lupin fiddles with the computer for a moment and comes to join Sirius on the bed — he looms over Sirius, tall and imposing, his eyes wracking over Sirius’ form with such intensity that he feels himself getting hard already. 

“And what do you want me to call you?” Sirius asks, feigning boredom in an attempt to regain the upper hand. “Sir? Master? _Daddy_?”

Sirius isn't usually such a dick to people who are about to fuck him, but Lupin is special — he makes an exception. 

“I want you to call me Remus.” Lupin responds in a low voice, his hands planted on either side of Sirius’ body as he looms over him, forcing Sirius to fall back on the bed; “I don’t want you to forget for even a _second_ that _I’m_ the one fucking you raw. When you come, all you’re going to be able to say, _to think,_ is my name.” 

Sirius’ mouth feels very dry all of a sudden. His cock, at least half-hard since the moment Lupin first walked in the room, fills and strains against his jeans. He must look comical to Lupin, all wide-eyed and blushing just because of a little dirty-talk. 

“I’m not going to use your name, though,” Lupin continues, his tone light and conversational, “...because you could be _anyone_ ,” one of Lupin’s huge hands fists Sirius’ hair and he pulls Sirius roughly up against him. Sirius gasps sharply, and Lupin murmurs into his ear; “Couldn’t you? My pretty little slut… I can call you whatever I like.”

Sirius whimpers. He’s so hard it hurts. 

“Plenty of punishment, I think.” Remus continues to murmur into his ear, and Sirius can’t help the little groan that escapes him. “We both know how much you deserve it.”

“Do we?” Sirius’ can hear that his own voice has gone all breathy. “See, I can’t remember doing anything wrong.” 

“Bit bratty are you?” Lupin muses. “I ‘spose that’s not a surprise.” 

“Just honest.” Sirius shoots back without missing a beat. “I haven’t done anything I’m sorry for. Not a single thing.”

 _Fuck you,_ he thinks loudly, staring right into Lupin’s eyes, _I’m not going to apologise to you._

Lupin chuckles, and seems to understand Sirius’ meaning just fine. “If you wanted to be spanked so badly, you could have just _asked_ like a good boy.” 

Sirius doesn’t have a good response to that; all he can focus on is the sound of his own heavy breathing, and the way that Lupin’s fingernails are digging into his scalp. 

He’s so fucking _hard_. How is Lupin so calm? 

“Take your clothes off.” Lupin commands. “I want to look at you.”

Sirius knows the camera is recording. Knows that they’re in the scene now, and that this isn’t personal. They’re both working. 

But he still shivers at the thought of being spread out under Lupin, the other man’s hot gaze trailing over him. He _wants_ Lupin to look.

It’s not _all_ he wants, though. He definitely wants to piss Lupin off, too. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” Sirius says, his voice full of faux innocence as he inspects his nails boredly. “I don’t feel like it.”

Lupin huffs out a laugh, and his grip on Sirius’ hair tightens. “Oh, you don’t _feel_ like it, hmm?” Lupin’s voice goes all low and gravelly, “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck what you feel like, then. Take your clothes off.”

It’s hot. It’s so hot. Sirius doesn’t care that it’s all pretend — that he could pull himself out of this scenario with a single three-syllable word — he feels like he’s not in the real world anymore. He and Lupin have gone to a place where everything is permitted. 

And Sirius wants nothing more than to fight with Lupin. To struggle against Lupin. To lose. 

Fuck, he wants that so badly. 

“I’m not undressing.” Sirius repeats. “You can’t make me.” 

Lupin considers him closely for a moment, and then leans forward; “Actually,” he breathes into Sirius’ ear, “I can.” 

Lupin is on top of him, yanking and pulling and literally ripping Sirius’ clothes from his body.

Sirius vainly tries to stop Lupin, but Lupin’s bigger, and stronger, and those fucking _hands_ — 

Sirius attempts to wriggle out from under Lupin but only succeeds in getting his wrists pinned against the bed. They’re chest to chest, and Sirius is already breathless. 

His shirt has been torn open by the buttons, and Lupin is making short work of his jeans too — yanking them down roughly, palming his cock through the thin fabric of his briefs before they’re ripped down too. 

Sirius’ cock springs free, slapping hot and heavy against his own stomach. Some distant part of his mind is embarrassed by how obviously turned on he is — but he can hardly be criticised for it in this scenario. It’s his job.

Sirius fights Lupin every step of the way as the other man attempts to wrestle his now-open shirt from his shoulders, and he gets the sense that Lupin likes the challenge of it. 

Eventually, however, Sirius ends up naked and pinned underneath a fully-dressed Lupin. 

“All fours.” Is Lupin’s next order, and Sirius notices with a jolt that there’s lust in those strange amber eyes, and the clear outline of an erection straining against his pants. 

Sirius pretends to consider the command for a moment. “No.”

 _Smack_. 

Sirius yelps at the sting of it. Lupin had slapped the side of his thigh, close enough to his arse to smart. 

Then he’s being flipped, belly-down on the bed, and Lupin’s spanking his arse four or five times in rapid succession. Sirius is dizzy with the sudden sting of it.

Lupin smacks him again, once, but hard. “ _Fuck_ —” Sirius feels tears of pain spring to his eyes, and a corresponding tear of precum leaking from his cock. It feels so, _so_ good. 

He’s surprised when he hears Lupin murmur into his ear; “Do you remember your safeword?” He’s speaking too low for the cameras to pick up, his clothed chest hovering barely an inch from the skin of Sirius’ back as he leans over him. 

This is a check-in. Just for them. It’s a strange thought — Sirius hasn’t really had anybody do such a thing before — he’s used to outlining his limits pre-scene and then that’s the end of it. Lupin’s strange display of care and consideration makes him feel safe. 

He even blushes a little. 

Then, realising he hasn’t responded, he nods rapidly. 

Satisfied that Sirius is okay, Lupin pulls back, pressing Sirius’ head down into the mattress and pulling him up onto his knees. 

“You’re a very pretty boy,” Lupin says casually, running his hand over Sirius’ spanked, red arse, “I’m only sorry that nobody ever bothered to teach you proper manners.” 

Sirius preens at the compliment, and ignores the insult. “You want me, don’t you?” he goads, “...you want to make me take your big cock,” he drops his voice a few octaves, “...want to fuck me with it, make me suck it…”

Lupin groans, and his hand is back in Sirius’ hair again. He tugs sharply. “Did I say you could talk, pretty boy?” 

“You’re just mad that it’s true,” Sirius says, voice a little muffled from being pushed into the mattress, “...you hate that you wanna fuck me so badly. Oh, _poor_ Remus Lupin, being _forced_ to give it to some beautiful—”

“Firstly,” Lupin cuts Sirius off, his voice deceptively casual, “...there’s no need to agitate me with sass.” 

Sirius thinks he can hear a smile in Lupin’s voice, but he can’t turn his head with Lupin’s grip on his hair so tight.

“Secondly,” Lupin continues, “I didn’t say _beautiful_. Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” 

Sirius’ cheeks burn, he’s about to angrily retort when Lupin stuffs something into his mouth. 

With a jolt Sirius realises it's his own underwear. 

“Tap the bed with two fingers if you want to safeword.” Lupin murmurs reassuringly into Sirius’ ear, bending low again. “Nod if you’re comfortable with that. If you’re not, shake your head or do nothing, and we’ll stop. It’s alright.”

Sirius nods. He can taste his own precum and he can smell the musky scent of dick. His dick. He has a sudden urge to rut against the bed, but he can’t in his current position — so instead his cock just jolts with arousal and he feels frustration curling in the pit of his stomach as he strains to get any stimulation. 

He doesn’t know why being gagged with his own underwear makes him so hot, but it does. 

After that Sirius is manhandled onto all fours. He hears the chink of a belt and the sound of pants being unzipped. He wants to see Lupin’s cock — oh, how he _wants_ — but he doesn’t dare move. 

But it’s Lupin’s fingers, not his cock, that start teasing at his opening. They’re wet — Sirius registers this with some gratitude, he didn’t take fucking without lube off the table but he certainly _prefers_ to be well-prepped — and they slip inside easily. 

“ _Unhh…_ ”

Lupin, as it transpires, seems to have a savant-like ability to locate prostates. Sirius’ has always been difficult to reach, but it's hardly three thrusts before Lupin’s long fingers are striking it with unerring accuracy. Sirius’ moans are muffled by his makeshift gag. 

“Yeah— _fuck_ — you like that?” Lupin sounds breathless. “Like being fucked by my fingers? Hm? My pretty little slut?”

Sirius moans whorishly into his makeshift gag — he barely has to act up for the camera all. 

“Knew you’d love this,” Lupin continues, “...knew you were all talk. When it comes down to it, all you want is to _take it_.” He couples this with a particularly hard strike at Sirius’ prostate, and Sirius thinks he might scream for how good it feels. 

Not that he isn’t pissed, too. He writhes and struggles and pushes back, the muffled noises of him trying to insult and curse Lupin through his gag filling the room. 

His back arches as he keeps up his indignant struggle, and he dimly registers that Lupin’s fingers leave him. 

_Smack_. 

Sirius yelps, and imagines the perfect red handprint the blow must have left on his arse; unwillingly, he whimpers. 

“Stay still.” The blunt head of Lupin’s cock is teasing his entrance, and Sirius wants it so badly he forgets to struggle against him; he stays in position, quiet and compliant for once. “Hmm. Good boy.” Lupin’s hand run soothingly across the small of Sirius’ back as he fills him with one sharp thrust. 

Slowly, Lupin cants his hips in agonising little circles; slow and deep and fucking tortorous. Lupin hums in contentment, the sound thick with arousal like he’s been waiting to do this _forever_. 

“Hmmm. Nice and tight.” Lupin rolls his hips again; pushing deeper into Sirius — who feels like he might fucking weep because he’s never been so turned on in his _life_ , by the by, and he’s furious with himself because this is _Lupin_ , fucking Lupin, _why_ — 

_Smack._

“Square your hips more.” Lupin commands. “And don’t collapse — I want you to stay on your knees.”

Sirius is wondering why on earth he would collapse when Lupin starts fucking into him at a punishing pace. 

Sirius can only lock his knees in the hopes that he doesn’t buckle under the force of Lupin’s thrusts and let out a muffled _‘ah_ — _ah_ — _ah_ — _’_ into his gag; the sound of slapping skin fills the room and Sirius can’t even _think_ anymore. 

“I want to hear you.” Lupin’s voice is rough, and he leans forward to pull the cloth from Sirius’ mouth, never once letting up his brutal pace. 

“Ah— _fuck_ —” Sirius immediately moans, head resting on his forearms as he strains to keep himself from collapsing or cumming or _both_. “Fuck, Lupin—”

_SMACK._

“What did I tell you to call me?” Lupin growls in his ear, grinding his hips against Sirius’ arse, pushing his cock as deep as it will go and holding it there. “Huh? _What_?”

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius babbles, “Remus, Remus, sorry, I—”

 _SMACK_. 

“That’s fucking right.” Lupin— _Remus_ growls. “Who fucking owns you right now?”

“You do, Remus, _fuck_ —”

“You love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, _unhh_ —” Sirius loses the ability to form words when Remus’ cock hits his prostate in a particularly mind-blowing way; the pace is quickening again, and Sirius is aware of Remus’ hand edging over his hip to wrap around his bouncing cock. 

Sirius groans. He doesn’t want to finish yet, but he has a feeling it’ll all be over once Remus starts in with those huge fucking hands. 

“Say my name.” Remus rolls the pad of his thumb over the head of Sirius’ cock and slowly starts to pump. 

“Remus—Remus...”

Remus’ hand speeds up, and Sirius feels the beginnings of his orgasm stirring in his abdomen. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Come.” Remus commands roughly, his hand jerking Sirius off violently. Sirius bites down on his lip, hard, and comes all over the sheets. 

He collapses, panting, and all he can do for a moment is gasp as the aftershocks of his orgasm make his dick throb — like his body is trying to milk him of every last drop of cum. 

It is then that Sirius realises that Lupin is still inside him; hard. 

Slowly, Lupin pulls out, which puzzles Sirius and makes him tense up. Dimly, he registers that Lupin is picking up one of the candles and flicking a lighter. 

The flame catches, and Lupin observes the small beads of wax running down the candle stem with a kind of far-off serenity which Sirius knows he won’t be able to achieve in this lifetime. It’s then — for the first time — that Lupin looks old. 

“Knees.” Lupin’s voice is calm, so calm, that Sirius doesn’t even think about disobeying. 

He settles back up unto his knees, and rests his head on his forearms. His arse is sticking up in the air, the way he knows that Lupin wants.

Lupin moves slowly, carefully, tipping the candle until small, hot droplets begin to splatter on the red, tender flesh of Sirius’ arse. Sirius gasps at the sensation; the burning tingle, the cooling of the wax on his skin. 

Lupin tilts the candle again, and pours wax all over the spot Sirius imagines to be most red — the sensation of the hot wax hitting his already stinging flesh makes Sirius feel like he could come all over again, and his back arches. 

“ _Fuck…_ ”

As Lupin makes his way over Sirius’ back, thighs and arse with the candle, Sirius feels his muscles relax and sink into the bed. The initial intensity of wax hitting his skin has faded, and now all he feels is luxurious warmth. He sighs contentedly. 

“You’re pretty like this.” Lupin murmurs, and Sirius’ heart skips. He has to remind himself of the cameras; surely that’s why Lupin said it. It’s important that he doesn’t read into things. 

Even so, it’s gratifying when Lupin impatiently discards the candle and starts pumping his fist over his own cock — like he can’t bear to wait any longer. Sirius can hear the slapping sound, but he knows better than to turn around to look. When Lupin comes, it’s with an almighty groan and all over his arse — the warm splatter of it joining the cooled, dry wax and red handprints that he left before. 

Sirius has never felt so fucking gorgeous as he does then; arse red from spanking, covered in cum and candle wax. 

It is then, in the post-orgasmic haze of heavy breathing and cooling sweat, that Sirius notices the conspicuous absence of a red blinking light on one of — fuck, no, _all of_ — the cameras. 

They aren’t recording. 

Sirius bolts from the bed, cutting off Lupin’s half-formed protest to _slow down_ with a glare that would’ve turned a lesser man to stone. 

“What’s—”

“The cameras!” Sirius’ voice is high and thin and hysterical as he looks over the monitor trying to find the problem. “They weren’t recording!”

“ _What_?”

“Did you hit the spacebar?” Sirius demands. “Did you? You lackwit? Or did you fuck up the _one_ simple instruction I gave you?”

“You said the enter key!” Lupin protests, and Sirius feels the urge to start throwing furniture around. Lupin is standing now, too, and he’s looking over Sirius’ shoulder at the monitor, as if hoping that Sirius was just playing some cruel trick on him. 

“I did not!” Sirius hisses, shoving Remus in the shoulder in his sheer frustration. “You did this on purpose!”

Remus growls, and for his part, he looks like he’s on the verge of tearing his hair out or crying, too. “What, so that I could spend another whole day listening to your annoying fucking voice?” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love my arse, Lupin!!” 

“You are the _worst_ — the most _arrogant_ fucking—” 

Sirius doesn’t know what comes over him — maybe it’s just that he wants to shut Lupin up, or maybe it’s the fact that Lupin looks so gorgeous when he’s frustrated — but before he really knows what he’s doing he’s grabbing Lupin by the face and angrily kissing him into silence. It’s not even half a second before Lupin’s hands are tangled in Sirius’ hair and he’s giving as good as he’s getting. The kiss feels like a competition for who can claim, overmaster, and devour the other — teeth, and tongues, and fingernails digging into flesh wherever they land. 

When they break apart, they’re gasping. 

“Fuck, okay, fine. I want to do it again.” Remus breathes, kiss-swollen lips millimeters away from Sirius’. 

“Yeah.” Sirius says, cheeks flushed. “Yeah, we should shoot it again.”

There’s a long pause from Remus, then; “We should get dinner first, though — for stamina.”

“For stamina. Yeah.” Sirius breathes. “Only sensible.” 

* * *

That’s more or less how Sirius and Remus end up on a dinner date, in spite of the fact that they’re apparently mortal enemies. 

They agree politely on a hole-in-the-wall ramen joint down the road, both being oddly pleasant in their address. They start off talking about the usual — their common acquaintances in the business, Lily, Alice… Then Sirius makes some comment about how he’s been single for over six years now and Remus finds himself telling Sirius all about his disastrous relationship with Benjy. 

“He seemed to feel that it was acceptable to fuck anything that moves — totally behind my back, by the way — on account of my profession.” Remus says. “He even had a separate phone for his hookups, like a bloody drug dealer.”

“Oof.” Sirius winces. “I’ll never understand why it’s so hard for people to figure out the difference between work and play — I assume _you_ weren’t fucking other blokes outside of your job.”

“Course not. I wasn’t even escorting then.”

“Really?” 

“I stopped when we became exclusive.” Remus explains. “I don’t escort all the time. I take breaks, for my mental health, when I’m in a relationship… I’m pretty irregular with it, honestly. Some people can just power through when their head isn’t in it, but I’m not like that. I can’t escort when I’m seeing someone I care about. Scenes are fine, camwork is fine, because they’re not emotional. But escorting almost always _is_ , you have to talk and connect with the other person — you’re providing companionship. I respect relationships that allow for escorting but it always made me feel disloyal, doing both. It feels like a part of me that I should save just for my boyfriend, you know?” 

“Yeah.” Sirius says, visibly surprised. “Yeah, I feel the same way.” 

“Spose that’s easy for you to say, you don’t escort.” 

“No, I don’t.” Sirius says. “But even _I_ don’t think that the fact that you sometimes escort merits being cheated on. That guy is a dickhead.”

That startles a laugh from Remus. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m definitely right.” 

“I’m curious about something.” Remus is a little hesitant to ask, but he’s unaccountably fascinated by the man sitting opposite — and he’s acutely aware that he might never get another opportunity to learn about him. “Why do you like it so much? Subbing?” 

“Gonna psychoanalyse me, are ya?” Sirius teases. “Is one of those degrees in psychology?” 

“Only an undergraduate minor, I’m afraid.”

“Suppose I’m safe then.” Sirius grins and leans back, his hands coming to rest behind his head — he’s the very image of casual elegance and Remus hates that he can look so calm when his own palms are sweating like crazy. “Why do I like it? I dunno, it’s relaxing.” 

“ _Relaxing_.” 

“Sure, there are no decisions to be made.” Sirius explains, smiling a little dreamily. “Total surrender, you just get to lay there and let the situation _happen_. Someone else decides what you deserve, the good and the bad, and you don’t have to think about it.”

“Sounds like my worst nightmare.” Remus says. “But it makes sense.” 

Sirius grins, and Remus’ stomach twists at the slightly predatory look which crosses the other man’s face. “How about _you_? What do you like so much about bossing people around?” 

Remus chuckles. “Like you said — I find it relaxing.” 

“Huh. I’d find it all kinds of stressful.” Sirius shudders, as if recalling some distinctly unpleasant memory. “All that responsibility… I’m horribly allergic to it.”

Remus laughs. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you just spent the better part of an hour trying to get me to follow simple orders?” Sirius grins wider. “And all you got for your trouble was the best orgasm of your life?”

Remus laughs, blushing in spite of himself. “You’re very sure of yourself.” 

“Shouldn’t I be?” Sirius’ head tilts to the side, and his eyes sparkle as he looks Remus up and down slowly. “Go on, tell me why you like being all _alpha_.” His voice is teasing, and Remus feels a familiar heat low in his belly. He takes a long sip of his drink, and attempts to marshall his nerves. 

“It’s wonderful.” Remus eventually says, pausing to consider his words. “Knowing that you’re in a situation where nothing is going to happen unless you _want_ it to. No nasty surprises, no being caught off-guard…” Remus grimaces. “Basically, I have serious trust issues.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh, I _bet_ you do.”

Remus stares at Sirius for a long moment, and then snorts. “You didn’t just.”

“I did.” Sirius smirks. “ _‘Sirius trust issues.’_ It’s too perfect.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m adorable.” Sirius preens unselfconsciously, stretching in his seat like a cat. “But anyway — you were saying?” 

Remus hums, and takes another long sip of his drink. “...I was saying, I enjoy being dominant sexually in part because I enjoy giving — fucking people in a way I know they like, making them work for it first… seeing the bliss when the waiting pays off.”

“’S a great feeling.” Sirius is a little breathy; it sends a thrill through Remus. 

“I liked that dynamic with you.” Remus says in a way that is meant to sound offhand, but doesn’t. “It was fun. Great... chemistry.”

Sirius stills, and doesn’t make a sound. 

Remus panics. “Not _great_ chemistry, I mean—” 

“It was bloody fantastic chemistry.” Sirius hurriedly cuts in. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I enjoyed a fuck that much.” 

“Oh.” Remus feels a smile curling his lips. “Well, then… Maybe, uh, maybe after we sort out this scene we can catch up? Do dinner again?”

“Yes.” Sirius' response is so swift that Remus’ face breaks into a wild grin. The other man looks so eager that it’s impossible not to feel flattered. 

“Well, then…” Remus smiles. “We should probably get back to work.”

* * *

A week after their re-shoot, Sirius receives a call from Lily. He’s been expecting it; the scene went live yesterday and it's already had a fucktonne of views. 

The first thing he hears when he picks up the phone is a low whistle and Lily’s voice; “My sweet baby boy, that was _hot_.”

Sirius grumbles, uncharacteristically shyly. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” 

“It’s my _job_ to look like I’m enjoying myself.” Sirius replies sullenly. “I’m a professional.” 

“Yeah, but you looked like you were _really_ enjoying yourself.”

Sirius huffs. “Fine, yes. I was.”

Sirius swears he can hear Lily’s smile through the phone. She doesn’t speak. 

“We got dinner.” He finally bursts. 

“You got dinner.”

“Yeah.” Sirius says. “And… well, we’re getting dinner again. Thursday night.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a date with your hot, clever, fellow porn-star twitter nemesis, of whom you once said _‘I’d rather die than let that pretentious knobcloud touch my dick’_... is that about right?”

“... Yes.” 

The line crackles with laughter. “James! _James!_ C’mere and get a load of this—”

“Okay, if you’re just calling to ridicule me—”

“Come on, Si! It’s _funny_ —”

“ _Hanging up now_ .” Sirius sing-songs passive-aggressively, amidst a stream of curses, apologies and protests from Lily. “ _Byeeeee_.”

* * *

Sirius sighs and scrolls through his recent messages. There’s been some back and forth with Remus, but he’s been trying to restrain himself. No need to fling himself at the man; he’s not _desperate_.

Even so, he’s just received a long-winded letter from the tax office and he’s got no idea what any of it means, and Remus seems like the type of guy who knows about that kinda stuff. 

He shouldn’t call though, he’ll come off too keen. 

But he wants to, god, he _wants_ to. 

_Play it cool, Black._

_No! Call him!_

Sirius has always suspected that he has approximately as much self-control as a toddler faced with a giant bowl of lollies, and this just about confirms it. 

He calls Remus. 

Remus answers after two and a half rings. His voice is low and warm and makes Sirius’ toes curl. “Afternoon.”

“Hey.” Sirius breathes, and then shakes himself. “I had a question for you.”

“Oh?” 

“You see, I got this letter from the tax office and—”

Remus snorts. “Do you mean to tell me that you had an enquiry about taxation law, and your first thought was to call me?”

Sirius smiles bashfully, grateful that Lupin can’t see his goony expression. “What can I say? You’re officially the biggest nerd I know.”

Remus chuckles. “Alright. Go on.”

“What’s a standard personal allowance?”

“It’s a tax-free threshold, basically its how much you can earn before the government will start taking a percentage of your earnings. It’s about eleven-thousand pounds, I think.” Lupin replies promptly. “God, you’re right, I’m a massive nerd who understands how tax works.”

Sirius laughs. “Well, thanks for clearing that up. The letter makes a bit more sense now.” If he’s honest, it wasn’t a question that needed answering, but it has worked well as an excuse to get Remus on the phone. 

“While I’ve got you…” Remus drawls, making Sirius chest flare with hope that he might be able to prolong this interaction. “Perhaps you can help me out, in your capacity as Official Cool Person.”

“Okay, first of all, you are never going to become less lame if you go around calling people things like _‘Official Cool Person’_.”

“Noted.” There’s a smile in his voice. “But anyway… I’ve, er, received an offer from a brand… to do some promotional work. On social media. They want an Instagram post and a video.” 

“Remus Lupin,” Sirius breathes, grinning in triumph and delight. “Do you mean to tell me that you are _selling out_?”

“It seems our scene together has somewhat diversified my fanbase.” Remus says lightly. “The brands now know I exist.”

“ _The brands_.”

“I’ve never really been _asked_ before…” Remus mutters distractedly. “Alice would kill me if I turned it down, I have to do it — I just have no bloody idea _how_.”

“This is exciting.” Sirius says encouragingly. “This means _options_ , Remus. More free time. More _money_ . And brands aren’t all gross — surely you can think of a few you’d actually _want_ to work with.”

“I’m really fond of this one particular kind of laundry detergent,” Remus muses, “...but I’m not sure its in the best interests of their ‘ _family values’_ marketing campaign to be associated with gay porn.” 

“Cruising right past the fact that you actually have _laundry detergent_ preferences…”

“You’re right, I know.” Remus sighs. “This is a good thing.”

“A _really_ good thing.” Sirius says encouragingly. “I’m happy for you, Remus.”

“Thanks.” Remus says softly. “That’s really— thanks.” 

“And don’t worry about how to do the promotional stuff, it’s not hard.” Sirius assures him. “You just play around a bit, say something cheeky, chuck up a string of eggplant emojis as a caption and call it a day.” 

Remus chuckles. “Is that so?” There’s a pause. “Maybe you can come over and show me how it’s done.” 

“Yeah.” Sirius’ cock twitches in interest. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

Another low chuckle. “If I’m honest, I can’t wait till Thursday to see you again.”

“Me either.” Sirius says quickly. “I’m glad I called.” 

“Me too.” Remus says. “Very glad.” 

Sirius pauses, deliberates, and then says in a light, offhand voice; “So… I’ll come over?” 

“Please.” Remus says. “I’d like that. And not just— not just for sex. It’d be nice to have a cuppa and talk, too.”

Sirius blushes brightly. “Yeah.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft. “A cuppa sounds nice.”

“I’ll text you my address.” Remus says. “Do you have a preferred brew?” 

“It’s ceylon or nothing, as far as I'm concerned.”

Remus laughs. “Of course you’d be picky. But I think I have ceylon somewhere in my cupboards. I have a tea shelf, you see. Quite the collection.”

“You have a _whole_ shelf dedicated just to tea?” Sirius’ face breaks into a delighted grin. “Remus Lupin, you are the perfect man.”

Sirius can practically _hear_ Remus blushing. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Uh, super smart, bloody gorgeous, massive dick, has _a_ _whole self of tea…_ ” Sirius lists off. “Tell me how it could get any better than that.” 

“The perfect man probably isn't an escort.” 

“Pfft.” Sirius scoffs. “That just means you’re sex positive, non-judgemental, and great in bed. Try again.” 

“You’re making me blush.” Remus says shyly.

“I know.” Sirius says with no small measure of delight. “It’s so much fun.”

“Evil.”

Sirius hums. “Get brewing, will you? I’ll jump in the car and be there in fifteen.”

“See you soon.” Remus says softly, and Sirius’ heart _aches_ at the sound of it. 

“Yeah.” He smiles. “See you soon.”


End file.
